


Oslo

by rainbowjaeger



Series: Gallyafest [10]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Halloween, Pre-Relationship, kind of, spooky stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 21:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowjaeger/pseuds/rainbowjaeger
Summary: Solo likes to tell about the creepy legends surrounding the building their mark is located. Illya doesn't want anything to do with his nonsense, but Gaby is easily spooked.





	Oslo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diadema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diadema/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Monster Mash Affair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12528296) by [diadema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diadema/pseuds/diadema). 



> I'm just in time for Halloween! I don't celebrate Halloween, so I'll just do it like this. It was high time I uploaded another fic anyway. I'm gifting this to diadema because her Halloween fic inspired this one directly. They're in no way related, just by the spooky theme.

Norway should have been a welcome surprise for Illya. The temperatures neared those in Russia and the people weren’t as needlessly boisterous and talkative as in places like America or southern Europe. The country had beautiful landscapes and Illya wouldn’t even stand out in the mostly pale and blond crowd. Should he pick a place outside of the Iron Curtain to live, Norway would be one of the places to consider.

Sadly, now that he was actually here, Solo had to ruin it for him, like he always did.

The team was stationed in Oslo, near the giant Akershus Festning – which, according to Solo’s stories, was notoriously haunted. Illya wanted nothing to do with these stories, but Gaby was immediately fascinated. Now, two hours later, Solo still hadn’t shut up, more than happy to show off his knowledge of the local history.

Illya had read up on the place as well, of course. He’d skimmed through the three pages of legends and myths, wondering how they had even ended up in a file like this. Ridiculous stories had no place in a file that was supposed to be based on known facts. Later he’d found out that their mark – a rich fascist with ties to the Vinciguerras – would stay here during vacations and perform seances and other things Illya could only describe as superstitious nonsense.

Their mission was to collect information; Waverly had explicitly told them not to engage. Even though he’d told the three of them, his gaze had solely been focused on Illya. He had simply nodded in response, his stoic expression not faltering. Now he was itching to do something, as he was sure he would go mad within minutes if he had to stay here listening to Solo’s unnecessarily embellished ghost stories.

“A lovely lady I met in Stockholm has been to the fortress twice,” Solo continued, telling Gaby the fourth anecdote in a row about how people he knew had had paranormal experiences. This one was actually about the fortress instead of some old chateau in the Provence. “The first time, she heard German whispers. Unfortunately, she didn’t know German, so she couldn’t make out what they were saying. The second time, she heard footsteps and saw a dog walk through the corridors. Later she’d asked the gardener if the owner had a dog, but the answer was no. She then told me about the legend of the _Malcanisen_ , or the Vicious Dog. The poor thing is said to have been buried alive in front of the fortress by a soldier to ward of intruders. It’s been sighted ever since.”

Gaby had become paler with every story, and Illya was moderately sure she was two shades away from being pronounced dead. He hadn’t expected the Little Chop Shop Girl to be so susceptible to laughable stories like these, but in a way, he was glad to have found out another detail about her. She was always so closed off to the world, and even though she’d slowly begun opening up to her partners, the process was agonizingly slow. He’d never pushed her, however, since he knew what it was like to possess over memories that were best forgotten. He was sure the Cowboy had his fair share of demons, too. And so they were at an impasse. Neither of them talked about themselves much, which made these moments that much more special. To Illya, it was like finding a small piece of a giant puzzle that fit. He hoped to eventually finish the puzzle that was Gaby Teller, even though he was fairly sure it would be an impossible task.

“I suppose we will find out about dog tonight. The mark has rounded the corner, he should not be back until after midnight. We should enter now.” Illya opened up the van they had been cooped up in for the past few hours, glad to be able to finally stretch his long legs.

 

-

 

“Aren’t you afraid at all, Illya?” Gaby whispered. Her voice still carried through the long hallways. He wasn’t surprised people believed this place to be haunted – the hallways and corridors looked dramatic, with great contrast between light and dark and the places where the shadows touched the walls and corners looked an awful lot like people in his peripheral vision. Even though he didn’t believe in ghosts, it was all very unsettling. At the very least, it didn’t allow the team to let their guards down.

“Solo likes to tell pretty stories. I do not believe them.”

“So you don’t believe in ghosts?”

“I do not believe in things that do not exist, no.”

Gaby seemed to study him, staring him down. It was apparent that she very much believed in ghosts, and he was unsure how she would take his response. Still, he told himself, she is a grown woman. She did not need to be lied to. Especially not on nonsensical subjects like ghosts.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, more to herself than to Illya.

After what felt like hours but realistically couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, they found the mark’s study and began rifling through the piles of paper, careful to put everything back the way they found it.

“Did you hear that?” Solo whispered. The three immediately stopped their rummaging to listen, but everything stayed quiet.

“Do not tell me you heard a ghost, Cowboy,” Illya said flatly, continuing his search.

“I didn’t say that. I heard a whisper, though. I’m pretty sure it was in German.” Illya turned to face him. To his surprise, Solo’s smug expression had made way for something closely resembling fear. His eyebrows were raised high and his eyes rapidly darted around the room, looking for the source of the sound.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Gaby whispered, trying her to be brave. Illya noticed that her expression and posture had changed too. She was slouching, like she was trying to disappear into herself, and her expression mirrored Solo’s. Upon seeing her in this state, his focus on the mission was immediately gone. Instead, it had shifted entirely to Gaby.

“This place is playing tricks on us. It is most likely nothing.” When that didn’t seem to help, he stepped closer and carefully touched her arm. She had plenty of time to flinch or pull away if she wanted to, but thankfully, she didn’t. “Remember, I’ll be close by.”

Considering this for a moment, she looked at him and nodded slowly. They went back to looking for the documents.

A sigh of relief went through the room when Solo announced he’d found the files they were looking for. He handed them to Gaby (the fastest writer of the three) and she began copying the most important details into the small notebook she brought along. When they all heard footsteps echo through the hallways, Illya confirmed he wasn’t in their corridor yet. Gaby scribbled down the last details and put the file back where Solo had found it.

She had to give her boys credit, their exits could be very quiet and clean when they wanted them to be. The fact that Solo was still somewhat shaken by the whispers also helped, since their exits were more often than not compromised due to them bickering constantly.

Illya entered the van last, and he barely had any time to close the doors before Gaby sped off.

“I did not see car of the mark anywhere around fortress,” Illya announced. He immediately regretted doing so when he saw Gaby’s knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. He couldn’t see her expression as he was in the back of the van. Solo, who had claimed the passenger seat earlier, didn’t react either.

“Maybe he parked on other side,” he quickly added.

Their hotel wasn’t as nice as in Rome or Istanbul, but it was certainly better than the shack Waverly had called a safe house back in Scotland. The hotel had soft beds, electricity, and running water, and the latter two were really the only thing Illya needed. He imagined Gaby would be pleased about the former, though. Not that he would know, as they all had their own hotel room for a change. After three months of sharing hotel rooms with either Gaby or Napoleon, or sharing a safehouse with both, he noticed the room was rather quiet. It seemed he had gotten used to his little team after all.

Exhausted from the hours of stationary recon and their unnerving stay at the fortress, Illya was more than happy to go to bed early.

The creak of the hotel door woke him. Various thoughts ran through his head at once: an intruder, the wind, even a ghost thanks to Solo’s stupid stories. He had his pistol aimed right between the eyes of the intruder as they entered the bedroom.

The small figure held her hands up in surrender. “It’s me,” the familiar voice broke through the silence. Illya put down the pistol at once, not wanting to hurt the source of the soothing voice in a million years.

“Are you okay?” were the first three words to escape his mouth as he crawled out of bed.

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to get up,” she assured him, stepping closer. He just noticed she brought her pillow.

He sat back down, still confused. “Gaby, what is wrong?” He turned on the light on the nightstand to see her properly. She shuffled nervously, fiddling with the fabric around the pillow. Her eyes were turned to the carpet.

“I, uh.. I can’t sleep. I know it’s really embarrassing but Solo must have psyched me up so much and everything creaks in my room and-“ her rambling was cut off by the flick of a light switch and the sound of two pats on the sheets.

“It’s okay.”

Gaby took the reassurance as an invitation and threw down her pillow in a frenzy, still afraid of the darkness that had descended down on the room. She buried herself under the sheets before Illya had settled himself.

“You are lucky I got room with big bed,” he told her, turning to face her. Before he could regret it, he was playing with a lock of her hair. The move had made her bolder as well, and she shimmied closer until her back was against his chest. “Or maybe not.”

He felt her chuckle more than he heard it. It brought a rare smile to his own face, as well.

“Good night, Little Chop Shop Girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I suppose I should do my research as well.
> 
> Akershus Festning, or Akershus Fortress, or Akershus Castle, is a castle located in Oslo, Norway. It was built roughly around 1300 to overlook the harbor around Oslo. Over the centuries, the Swedish have tried to attack the castle eight times and have failed every time. I imagine some soldiers have died in any of those eight times. 
> 
> During WW2, Germany invaded the fortress and occupied it until the end of the war. Even though Norway surrendered the fortress without combat, a fair amount of people were executed by the Germans there. Some of the executed people were part of a Norwegian sabotage group.
> 
> The fortress today actually consists of about 67 buildings, but for the sake of painting a pretty spooky picture of one big old building, let's say it was just one castle.
> 
> I'm also pretty sure Solo believes in ghosts! Even though he's from the city, he's certainly seen some shit during the war. The liberation of concentration camps involved seeing a lot of death, which I'm sure scarred the poor man for life. 
> 
> In case any of you watch Buzzfeed Unsolved, Illya is pretty much communist Shane, with his whole "ghosts don't exist, I'll believe it when a ghost grabs be by my shoulders and shakes me around" shtick. Even though I'm 100% certain a ghost could slap both Shane and Illya across the face and they'd just say it was a strong gust of wind.


End file.
